Dolls and Wars
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Steampunk!AU::: War is waging in London, too close to call. But the mad inventor has created the ultimate weapon- a clockwork doll named Bellatrix, the perfect killing machine.


**For the Prompt Relay Challenge (station seven 2/15)**

_"This fallen angel is the illegitimate daughter of art and science."_

_-"Herr Drosselmeyer's Doll"- Abney Park_

She is almost complete. Tom feels his heart racing in his chest. A few more pieces, a snip here, a stitch there, and she will be finished.

"Almost," he whispers to himself. "Almost."

His hands work skillfully, piecing her together, adjusting the cogs and springs within. He feels sweat beading his brow, and his shoulders ache from hunching over this table for so long, but he ignores it and carries on. For his work, he will gladly suffer.

This will turn the tables in his war. This beautiful creature, this perfect being will be his endgame.

"Soon," he says, fixing a stitch around her forehead, hiding it so that it almost blends in with the flesh tones. "Soon, my pet."

..

Tom turns the key and lets her go. Her movements are too awkward, too stiff and jagged.

"No!" he screams. "No! No! No!"

She doesn't flinch, doesn't notice his anger at all. She moves along, all staggers and disjointed gestures before stopping, her upper body slumping forward.

..

"Do you have it?"

Wormtail looks nervously over his shoulder, beady eyes squinting. Somewhere in the night, a raygun fires audibly, and he jumps.

"You have far more to fear from me if you don't have what I need, you fool," Tom snaps.

"Might have been one of yours, mister," the street sparrow mutters, wiping his dirty hands over his equally dirty, tattered vest.

"What do I care if it's one of mine?" Tom asks, grabbing the grimy young man by the shoulders. "Do you have what I need or not?"

Wormtail squeaks and nods vigorously. "I got it! I got it!" he squeals, squirming until Tom releases him. "Ole Potter had me do a few servant errands for him. Nicked it when I was at his place, I did."

Tom holds out his hand impatiently. "Well?"

"Just a moment, m'lord," Wormtail says, reaching a hand inside his vest. "There is a price, you know."

"You'll get your reward when I know that you have what I need," Tom says sharply, giving a flick of his wrist. "I know better than to trust a filthy urchin."

Hesitantly, Wormtail hands over the package, wrapped in tattered brown paper. Tom checks it, a rare smile stretching his lips.

"My reward, if you please," Wormtail says.

"You know what your problem is, Wormtail?" Tom muses, tucking the package into his waistcoat. "You're such cheap labor. You run errands for the Phoenix. You run them for me. Anyone with a little copper to spare can by your loyalties with ease."

"A man's gotta do what he's gotta do to survive, m'lord," Wormtail mutters, shifting nervously. "Keep my head down, earn a tuppence or two. All I care about at the end of the day. Gotta stay alive."

"Indeed," Tom agrees.

Without even a second's thought, he pulls out his own raygun, shooting the urchin before walking away.

..

He rips her open with precision, carefully peeling back her ivory outer layer and delving into her bronze skeleton.

This is it. The missing piece. Tom feels almost giddy as the realization hits, and he can't fight back a laugh.

"Here we are, my pet," he says as he secures the vial of aether in her chest cavity where a human heart would go.

He takes his time as he repairs her. This is not a job to be rushed, not with something as powerful and priceless as aether inside her. One wrong move, one little spring out of place, and everyhing could be ruined.

..

He turns the key, holding his breath.

His clockwork doll springs to life, glass eyes opening.

One step, then another. She moves so gracefully, her body flowing so smoothly, so much more perfectly than a human's.

"My pet!" Tom says, clapping his hands wildly. "I've done it! It is complete!"

His clockwork doll bows her head.

"Perfect."

..

"Gentlemen, you are probably wondering why I've asked you here tonight," Tom says. "The war is ours to be won!"

Rodolphus snorts, adjusting the goggles atop his head. "Always has been," the aviator says, and the table bursts into cheering laughter.

Tom raises his hand, and everyone falls silent. "I have the answer," he says. "Something those Phoenixes would never even dream of."

He moves, hands gripping the white sheet. With a flourish, he removes it, revealing his beautiful creation.

"A woman?" Lucius asks, leaning forward.

"So much more," Tom assures him, turning the key. "A warrior. Bellatrix, if you will."

All eyes are on the doll as she waltzes across the room, turning with ease.

"An automaton," Lucius gasps. "Good God, Tom! Do you really think this is wise?"

"Bellatrix!" Tom calls, snapping his fingers and gesturing towards Lucius.

Bellatrix is on him quicker than the blink of an eye, metalic hands capturing Lucius' neck in a death grip.

"You see why she is perfect?" Tom laughs as the nay-sayer turns red and sputters for air. "She has no heart, no soul. She could snap your neck in a heartbeat, and she wouldnt lose any sleep over it, my boy."

Lucius struggles, prying at the fingers, but they don't budge. His face is purple now, features strained and panicked.

"Strong, isn't she?" Tom continues, moving forward and standing behind his creation, trailing his fingers over her arm. "Who among us can bend metal? Anyone? No? Remorseless and unstoppable."

He touches her wrist, and Bellatrix's grip loosens. Lucius falls forward, bracing against the table, greedily sucking in air. Bruises are already beginning to blossom around his neck.

"Let them come," Tom says. "Let them fight. And watch them all die at the hands of my fallen angel."


End file.
